


The Stairs

by rooktakesqueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Short, Stairs, Trans Character, hpmor has forever changed the way that i think about pheonixes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooktakesqueen/pseuds/rooktakesqueen
Summary: Magic stairs that detect gender are complicated.





	

He watches the stairs.

They walk up it so effortlessly, in ones and twos and great laughing packs. His friends notice–of course they do–and Jamie digs an elbow into his ribs while the others pull moon-eyed wanting faces. Which one is he watching? All of them, the letch, and of course he doesn’t talk to them, he’s too busy watching.

By wandlight he brushes his hair, tracking its growth, and he wonders if the boys’ stairs are charmed, too.

Everyone knows how the stairs behave, perfect and steady for the girls, and everyone knows how they change, the product of some ancient charm, as old as the founders, as old as the stones. The division goes back centuries, in their corner of the magical world. He hears rumors, of course, that there are many paths down in the snake’s dungeons, hidden words that grant the way. Godric would never allow such a thing in his towers.

The fire burns down to embers, the embers down to ash, and he stands in front of the stairs again.

He falls asleep in potions. Slughorn deducts five points loudly enough to wake him, and remands him to the Headmistress’ office. She’s surprised to see him, surprised that he’s doing so poorly in every class but hers. He can only tell her lies through his tears, and her pity feels like a noose growing tighter. She prescribes ten grams of dark chocolate, and a good night’s rest.

The common room is empty. Smeared lines curl around his cheekbones. He could be happy here.

He can hear it already, the rough clatter of stone turning to for one long, smooth curve.

He’s dreamed it a hundred times, on the nights that he can sleep.

The stairs are impassive, appearing infinite from the bottom, he can’t even see the first landing, can’t imagine where his room would be. Maybe he can take a step.

Just one step, and 

wait 

for the world to end.

Somewhere up in the distance, he can hear a pheonix singing.

**Author's Note:**

> from the "prompt": Wait, so in Gryffindor Tower, if a boy tries to go up the girl’s staircase, it turns into a slide, right? What if one day a kid sets foot on it, but it remains stairs, all the way to the top, and at the top the kid whispers “I knew I was a real girl”
> 
> writing soundtrack: the sunset tree
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> thou shalt spell the word "pheonix" p-h-e-o-n-i-x, not p-h-o-e-n-i-x, regardless of what the oxford english dictionary tells you


End file.
